


in which Fabia fell and accidentally found a girlfriend feat. a magical genie

by Nhuy



Category: Bakugan Battle Brawlers
Genre: Aladin AU, Dead fandom: my city now, F/F, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I will sail this ship myself if I have to, Romantic Comedy, and an oblivious shut-in of a genie, but mostly just our resident princess and dumb genie doing dumb ass antics, feat. the single most competent princess neathia has ever seen, i'll try my best at bringing it in the later parts, no beta we die like women, no comedy in the first few chapters tho, will reconstruct sentences later as the current prose is too direct and lacks immersion, with a slide of war drama and politics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-05-31 08:14:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19422037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nhuy/pseuds/Nhuy
Summary: Fabia fell down a cavern on an island in the middle of nowhere. She wanted a way out, but instead found a genie (and future girlfriend).Or: Fabia Sheen's exciting adventure with a hot genie to rescue her country. More at 6.





	1. in which there were many ways for a day to go wrong

**Author's Note:**

> So I procrastinated and wrote up this beast of a fic in... idk... a week??? two weeks??? Blame japanese class for messing me up.
> 
> No beta we die like women ladies and gentlements.

Fabia certainly heard rumors about this place—a small island far off the coast, only reachable by ships and filled up to the brim with dirt and sand. Months ago, she'd had a mind to go there and see for herself why such an unremarkable place kicked up so much of a fuss that even the Emperor of Gundalia had to send people there, but then she couldn't because Neathia was in the middle of a war with that same damn Emperor and she was swarmed with works and war planning.

The small consolation she had was news of the Gundalian investigators’ demise during the journey to the island. Good for her country, she supposed, since who knew what kind of heavy discoveries were on that island.

Then the war picked up on its intensity with Emperor Barodius throwing soldiers left and right without a single thought to the lost lives. She became the commander of Neathia’s war efforts against Gundalia—with her sister maintaining the country's economy—and had been moving between war zones for months on end. Especially, for the last three-or-more months Fabia hadn't been able to see her only sister’s face, she was neck-deep in the blow-to-blow clashes between the two armies and she didn't even have a shower for two weeks now. Naturally, Fabia had been pissed, tense, dirty and all kind of negative adjectives.

At least she could channel her frustration into cold anger against those Gundalian bastards.

But three days ago, her camp was _almost_ ambushed.

She only narrowly escaped capture in the burning camp, all the while shouting orders for her soldiers to spread out to secondary camps strewing across the desert. Her brave Neathian brothers and sisters, their discipline unmatched by Gundalian foot soldiers, took her orders and efficiently threw distractions for unprepared ones to get into gear. Fabia thought the ambush was too light, with only stealth-trained Gundalian soldiers burning the primary camp and trying to capture the princess; but against such fast reaction time from her army, the attempt quickly failed.

Not for long, Fabia knew that.

The Gundalian’d had had a raiding party on standby, in case of failure. The raiders would swoop in and take potshots at anyone in their range while herding them into pre-prepared traps alongside the border. A sound plan, as long as they could slip a rat—the kind that leaked information and sold out comrades—into the Neathian army in the first place. Well, she'd crack down on that rat after regrouping with her army.

And if Fabia was to be honest with herself, she'd definitely pull something like this had she not been so reviled by cheap tactics. But then, _all is fair in love and war,_ and Neathia would lose as long as she refused to entertain the thought of dirty tricks.

She couldn't let her country be a subject to Barodius’ madness.

However, she needed to survive first against the raiders chasing after her. All planning could wait until then.

Three days later, after a sand-filled desert chase, a deliberately triggered explosion followed by some jungle stomping and sleeping on trees, Fabia was smack dab in the middle of nowhere on a stolen Gundalian chaser and heading towards the mysterious island to which the journey had killed a bunch of fully-trained Gundalian scouts. Fantastic, really.

She chanced a glance behind her, seeing four high-speed chasers with guns aiming at her head and ready to fire. Her instinct screamed at her to duck, Fabia complied and an energy bullet flew harmlessly through the space her head just occupied mere seconds beforehand. The princess knew they wouldn't risk getting close to her now, after one chaser got too close yesterday and she jumped overboard, killing the three raiders with their own weapons and blew the heads of another chaser’s raiders off with the grace of a dancer. They knew now of the danger she posed, and the raiders switched to long-range weapons to try to nail her from afar.

_‘Well,’_ Fabia mused, ‘ _they are at least competent enough to give me some trouble.’_

Her left side, as if knowing she was thinking about it, started to ache and bleed sluggishly. The wound had been aggravated since the jungle chase when she got shot by a lucky raider. With no time to waste, Fabia only gave it the most basic of basic first aid—enough to stop the bleeding, but the burning pain she had to put up with. It couldn't be helped, with her circumstance as dire as it was.

‘My body really betrayed me during critical moments like these, hm?’

With the mysterious island looming before her, the princess bit her lips and floored the gas towards the shore. She ducked down, grabbed the pulse gun with steady hands despite the blood loss and aimed at the head of a raider on the chaser closest to her own. Her fingers pulling the trigger, Fabia allowed herself no time to rest before lining up with her next target in one smooth motion, pulled the trigger once more.

Fabia knew she would have to take out at least two chaser vessels, and also have enough energy remain in the gun for the inevitable clash on the island. She had to take them out quickly, in her best-case scenario, then reached the island safely before thinking up ways of contacting Serena. The worst-case scenario, however, involved the princess roughing it up with twelve raiders—nay, nine raiders now—on a terrain full of sand dunes and low-rising mountains. A confrontation in the open like that would certainly kill her in her wounded condition.

Fabia definitely didn't like her odds of getting out alive, but as long as there was hope she'd continue to fight; if she was to die today, the warrior princess much preferred going down fighting, _thank you very much_.

After missing her third shot in a row, Fabia lowered the gun and started counting the energy bullets left. Twenty. Against nine raiders, twenty bullets for someone of her caliber were a lot; but against nine raiders with twenty bullets in the middle of a desert with limited options for cover, wounded and exhausted like her now would be a literal death wish.

_Well,_ her mind muttered, _the island approached._

Indeed, that mysterious island which had sparked her curiosity so many months ago was now in front of her. Even seeing the dried-out terrain from afar was enough to get the young commander groaning of dread. But, it was either a small chance of victory on that island or being gunned down like a dog. She just wished that her maybe-grave was a little bit lusher, since a little green never hurt anyone.

“No time to waste. It's do or die now.” Fabia breathed out, trying to calm down while willing her wound to stop bleeding _just for a damn little bit._ “Let's survive this and kick Barodius in his smug face!”

Her chaser slowed, signaling its near collision with the sandy shore. Fabia steeled herself one last time before taking her gun and the remote detonation, jumping right over the ledge and zigzagging deeper into the island.

She looked back at the approaching enemy chasers, estimating their distance to her vessel before pressing the countdown button. She gave them ten seconds to go near the shore, two seconds for immediate jumping overboard; she estimated for twelve seconds until the vessel explode.

Her legs were sore and heavy, her headache was at full force, her mind struggled between clarity and sluggish tiredness. But the princess held on, running past her limits to get into something resembling distance between her and her enemies, just for that little hope of survival and kicking Barodius in the ass. A little bit selfish and petty, but _hey,_ Fabia Sheen was running on fume right now and she would take any kind of motivation available to her.

_7_

.

The sounds of engines and shouting men were getting closer.

.

_6_

.

Fabia could feel a leg muscle being pulled; _she couldn't stop now._

.

_5_

.

Her hand gripped the gun tighter, to the point of pain.

.

_4_

.

The princess’s hair tie broke. Her hair was getting in her eyes now.

.

_3_

.

Sounds of splashing. _They are near._

_2_

.

Her blood sang and bled. Her sweat dripped and pooled. _There were no tears, and there will never be tears._

.

_1_

.

She will survive.

.

_0_

_._

Screams and curses greeted her ears, sounds of blood splattered on sand were good news to her. That meant some raiders got caught in the explosion.

_That meant her chance of surviving this ordeal had increased._

She dared a glance towards the Gundalian. Only seven—no, it was six raiders chasing after her now. She let a small grin curl up her lips.

The commander could survive this.

_She would survive this._

The island’s highest point loomed before her, surrounded by sand and battered by wind. It’d be harsh on her, but it would also be harsh with her enemies.

_Let the chase begin._

* * *

_An accomplishment,_ that was what Fabia would normally call it.

But during this moment, she only felt the urge to laugh heartily and fully, without restraint. _But who can blame her?_

She _survived._ Against six chaser vessels, eighteen raiders with a bullet wound in her side, Fabia Sheen _survived._

Against an almost impossible odd, she pulled through and did something only the most well-trained combatants could dream of: fighting and winning against a full fleet of raiders singlehanded.

“Pfft—”

She couldn't stop laughing. She laughed so hard tears started to run down her face.

_It's okay, for these are tears of life and happiness._

She laughed out loud again. Luckily this was an island in the middle of nowhere, with only her and nine cooling corpses as signs of human activity. Her soldiers would laugh and joke amongst themselves silly if they could saw her now.

_Oh god the laugh is gonna come out again—_

“—ahahaha—”

Did she go insane? Maybe blowing too many brains out left her a bit _brainless_ in the process?

_‘Annnnd, here comes the laugh,’_ her mind tried to chastise. _‘Bad pun, Fabia Sheen. At least make it classy.’_

Fabia’s attempt to stifle her giggles—high and elated after her unimaginable victory—failed at the lame pun. She started to sob between bouts of giggles, unable to stop and too tired to even think of stopping.

It was a mix of determination and fear that drove her forward against the raiders during the entirety of the chase, her mind and body only focused on one single purpose: to survive. In the end, to live while her pursuers laid dead brought down on her the full weight of her fears without the determination to keep it at bay.

Simply put, _Fabia Sheen was terrified of death_. It hit her now, after the rush of battle had passed, that she was so near Death’s doorstep and never fell to the other side just because she was both lucky and skilled. More lucky than skilled, even.

The warrior princess knew she need to let it all out in order to cool her head and planning her next move. Her wounds needed immediate attention, she was thirsty and hungry, her body ached everywhere—Fabia had to recover, and _recover fast_ ; the Emperor would send people after her if the raiders didn't return.

They certainly wouldn't return now.

Taking a deep calming breath, Fabia stood up slowly, mindful of her reopened wound and abused legs and steadily made her way down the mountainside. Her hands were still tightly clutching the gun _(only two bullets remained)_ , the commander twitched the fingers on her left hand before gingerly uncurled them from the barrel. Her right hand still curled, but laxer than mere moments before, and she brought her free hand up to slick back her hair. In her opinion, her hair became _too dirty, too long_. She would think of a haircut later.

Her free hand grabbed onto an out-jutted rock, her legs as steady as she could will it to, the princess put the gun into her belt holster then grabbed onto a lower rock ledge with her right hand, wincing at the slight pull on her wound. She would have to hurry, else she’d die of blood loss.

“And that’ll be a _lame_ death,” Fabia muttered sarcastically, sweating profusely from hours of strenuous activities. “Surviving a bunch of raiders then to die from blood loss—that’s just sad. Especially for me.”

She breathed out, worried for her own predicament and her lack of communication—but that could be fixed with some tinkling with the Gundalian chaser’s onboard communicator. What worse was the island’s lack of proper shelter; with the way this island’s terrain formed, Fabia wouldn’t be surprised when night came and froze her to death. And, _oh wow,_ there were a bunch of ways for her to die on this damn island, wasn’t it?

Well, she’d pull through, somehow.

* * *

Fabia could kiss the ground she was standing on right now, after the climb down full of sweat, blood and tears. Her wound was bleeding sluggishly, surprisingly slow for such a long trip down, but the commander learned not to look for a gift horse in the mouth; all she should take from a situation like this was her luck on not passing out yet.

_Wait,_ her mind signed, _spoke too soon._

A headache was building up, quickly. She could feel its pounding urgency and her eyes blurred, the evening sky looked like a mesh of kaleidoscopic colors to her overworked brain right now. Fabia staggered, her legs suddenly unsteady—and she flopped down on the hot-but-cooling sand, the exhaustion finally caught up with her. Her body felt like lead, weighing her normally sharp mind down; well, she’d been running nonstop for three days with no time for convalescence in between, she had it coming, really.

But, she couldn’t rest in the open like this. Wound infection and hypothermia? _Hell no._ Not to mention animals, and desert animals were known for their incredibly potent venom.

Now that she mentioned it, since this morning she hadn’t seen any animal on this island. At the least she should had seen some scorpion crawling around, but no living creature—big or small—in sight.

A blast of rough wind pushed sand right up to her face. Fabia spat out, attempting to sit up with her elbows. Her eyes watered, her nose had that funny feeling of near-sneeze and the princess cursed her circumstance once again.

_‘I have to go on_ ,’ she gritted her teeth. ‘ _To see Serena again, to stop this war and to kick that asshole in the face!’_

With a vicious jerk, the High Princess of Neathia sat up, mindless of the running sweat on her face and the slowly pooling blood beneath her body. She stood, running on pure determination and pettiness, and took a step forward.

Then promptly fell down in a heap onto the sand.

‘ _I… have to…’_ her hands, limp and bruised, tried to force themselves up. _‘I…’_

Her face scrunched up from the constant abuse of the desert, eyelids dropping and lips bitten from nervousness.

_‘I…’_

Fabia blacked out.

.

In her _(maybe)_ dream, she thought the desert was swallowing her whole, but there was no sand in her mouth, her eyes or her ears. The princess thought of it as only a weird dream.

In her _(maybe) not-_ dream, she fell down a long distance. But there was no sensation of her brain being splattered, nor her bones breaking into thousand pieces; she felt something soft catching her, lower her down. The princess thought nothing of it, nothing more than the work of an overworked brain.

But, _but,_ Fabia knew she touched something cold and round and smooth. It was near her hands, and she, in her delirium, reached for it. Her fingers definitely smoothed over the cold metal surface with the weak caress of a dying woman. She felt the metal sang and hymned beneath her touch.

But the brave princess dismissed it as nothing more than weird conjurations of the mind.

Then—

Smoke filled her mind, a warm hand holding onto her battered ones. A dulcet voice told her to _sleep, I will watch over you, brave princess._

And she did.

* * *

Fabia jerked awake, her mind instantly kicked into fight-or-flight mode and she rapidly blinked, finding herself in some kind of cave. She curled her arms, bracing herself ready to sit up, her mind already wincing at the thought. But—

_‘I… am not sore?’_ Her forehead scrunched up at the thought, _‘but, after all those chasing and the lying down… what?’_

She sat up on her _healed, unbruised_ arms and finally took a good look around.

_‘How?’_

She was in a massive cavern, its ceiling so high the princess couldn’t even see it properly. The cavern was spacious with a slight wind blowing, no hotter nor colder than the harsh desert _above? outside?_ _who knows?_ And glowing with some weird greenish light.

And treasures. _Lots of treasures._

Gold and diamond jewelry was everywhere, piling up in literal mountains of gold; Fabia saw a golden necklace with a pendant which had an emerald bigger than the biggest diamond in the world on her left side, twinning alongside the necklace was an absolute lavish box enameled with gemstones from top to bottom. On her right side were some kind of golden armor with red inkling, a pair of golden gloves with a— _guess what_?—golden chain in their clasp. A bit farther from her seated position were a _honest-to-God_ golden sword with a literal _made-from-diamond_ handguard.

“…”

To be honest, anyone in her position would also be speechless in front of this massive display of wealth. Even the High Princess of Neathia—Fabia Sheen herself was near blind from looking at those glowing treasures. Either the person behind this was incredibly rich _(almost richer than a country)_ or a damn pirate captain; and Fabia knew the latter option was almost guaranteed to be true.

After all, if there was really such a rich person who wasn’t an illegal sea robber then Emperor Barodius would already had his grubby hands on them already.

_Oh wait, he did send scouts here_ , Fabia did a mental facepalm. _The amount of riches here would be enough to fund the war for years on end._

Letting out a despondent sigh, Fabia turned around to seek for an escape route. Then she promptly fell over and nearly had a heart attack.

For sitting right behind her was probably the most beautiful woman the princess ever saw in all of twenty-one years of her life.

Long curling hair with a mix of color echoes from the cavern framed a heart-shaped face, an unruly cowlick poked up on that mane of magnificent hair and something resembling a circlet was on the woman’s forehead. Big eyes with long red lashes highlighted its deep chocolate color, and— _is it her or those eyes are slitted?_ —straight nose, pink curling lips that _were smiling softly at her oh my god_ —

“Seems like you are awake. I thought you were going to be unconscious for a while longer.”

_‘Oh hell I’m gay,’_ Fabia groaned inwardly, still reeling from the almost heart attack. Her mind rapidly nodded along with the sentiment. The woman’s voice was both soothing and startling to her, jerking the young commander out of her gay funk and back to the current situation.

Namely, a strangely-dressed and otherworldly-pretty woman was sitting behind her and probably had been watching her sleep for who-knew-how-long. Fabia had questions, _lots of questions_ —like, ‘who the hell are you’, ‘where did you come from’, ‘what’s with the weird clothing’, and, of course, ‘did you bring me here and watch me sleep you creep’—but what came out of her mouth was:

“Were all of these treasures yours?”

With no hesitation, the strange woman smiled, “Yes.”

“…”

Fabia could feel her facial muscle pulling into an increasingly incredulous look. She squeezed her eyes shut, opened them, then rubbed her hands against them for good measure—just to make sure she didn’t hallucinate up the vast amount of wealth in the cavern and the assured expression on the woman’s face—before squeaking out, “All of these?!”

(The princess staunchly refused to acknowledge the fact that her voice raised a few octaves there nor the abrupt and rapid movements her hands made. The widened eyes and opened mouth were embarrassing enough as they were, no need to add more salt into her wounded dignity.)

“Yes. Um—” The pretty woman paused mid-sentence, her deep eyes roving up and down Fabia’s half-slouch-half-crouch body, lingered where her bullet wound was— _wait, it didn’t hurt anymore!_

The princess pressed a hand onto her left side, right over the _supposed_ burn that signified the energy bullet’s entry, and found nothing but smooth flesh. Smooth, _unmarked,_ flesh.

_Smooth, unmarked and not-hurting flesh._

“What.”

By this point Fabia just had had enough, her incredulity could only be tested so much per day; surviving a full band of raiders then getting dropped down to a cavern filled to the brim with treasures, then meeting a strangely dressed (and pretty) woman who _owned_ the entirety of this cavern’s content then finding out her wounds were miraculously healed despite the fact that no kind of technology could bring about such perfect, _unblemished,_ result? She knew her face just about reflected her current stance on these impossible matters.

The beautiful stranger met her gaze then floundered, her eyes stopped assessing Fabia’s poor state and instead looked everywhere but her, those pale elegant hands wringing together and pink lips pursing. Then those _impossibly slitted_ eyes abruptly turned to the undignified princess and stared straight right into hers. That mellow, dulcetly tone rang out again:

“I took the liberty of healing you. I—um, you were badly wounded and I couldn’t just leave you like that,” that heartbreakingly beautiful face looked at her with such unmasked honesty, so much that Fabia found her _completely justified_ anger and incredulity withered away in front of it. “I’m sorry, for touching you without your permission like that.”

Just like that, Fabia’s proverbial feathers were soothed and smoothed down, like a cat curling into itself after a satisfying backrub. _Or maybe we are just weak for pretty people with hard-hitting puppy dog eyes,_ her mind snickered.

Well, her brain wasn’t wrong, per se.

Putting those _gay debates_ aside for one moment, the not-so-undignified princess brought her attention to one crucial thing the woman said. Namely, the whole ‘I healed you up to full health’ and stuff like that. This woman must had been joking right? For even the most advanced tech Neathia and Gundalia had couldn’t even heal energy burns without leaving scars, much less make it smooth and unblemished and _not leaving the infamous phantom pain._ Did this person stay so long among gold and diamond to the point of losing touch with the real world?

“Did I hear you right? You said you healed me?” Straight-forward, Fabia figured, was the best way to get an answer in an army system. You asked and they answered, no long-winded speech, no snide remark, no beating around the bush. Just straight-forwardness. The commander belatedly hoped the woman wasn’t the type to give long-and-unrelated answer because she didn’t think she had the strength to sit through it, even if it was a pretty lady delivered that kind of answer.

Damningly, the woman stared straight at her eyes again, face devoid of any dishonesty and answered, “Yes.”

_Oh my—either the woman's insane or I’m the one insane here,_ her mind concluded, fed up with the day’s event. _Or maybe we both are insane now._

The young commander wouldn't put it past herself to go insane after three adrenaline-full days. Or she knocked her head somewhere after falling down this weird place? Who knew?

The outlandishly garbed woman continued, “You were dying—either from the blood loss or hypothermia, I didn't know—but the island chose you, it allowed you here and you called for me. I couldn't let my contractor die like that; I have my duty to fulfill.”

A pregnant pause followed that _completely illogical_ answer. 

“...”

“Um, are you okay? Did you feel pain anywhere?” The woman came closer, her red eyebrows furrowed in concern and her hands reached up to lightly touch Fabia's face, “I could heal you again—if you want to, of course. A contractor of sound mind is better during the wish-granting process, after all.”

_What? The island chose what? Who called for who? What duty was this woman going on about? Contractor and wish-granting process?_

_What?_

“What.” Fabia deadpanned.

The damn woman had the gall to blink _innocently_ at her back. Then those eyebrows furrowed again, her head tilting left and right as if to reconsider the princess when a sudden light of realization dawned in her eyes. She backed off a few paces from the extremely skeptical commander in front of her then turned her full attention onto Fabia's clothing, eyes rapidly assessing with an intense kind of focus—the kind of focus only army leaders and politicians had. That calculating-and-searching-for-apparent weakness look Fabia saw so many times was in her eyes, making her hackles rise unpleasantly. In this moment High Princess Fabia knew, she was dealing with a very intelligent and possibly dangerous individual who may or may not be an enemy. 

_And who may or may not be insane,_ her brain helpfully pointed out. _You heard her—full healing, sentient island, wish-granting process, those are wild and impossible things—if it was true, then we'd not lose so many of our breadthens to the war. Or maybe we’d lose more._

But, Fabia realized, an intelligent but insane person was ten times worse than a regular insane or smart person; that kind of people was often unpredictable and uncontrollable, just like the current Gundalian Emperor. Maybe not intelligent in that bastard’s case, and more along the line of off-the-rails-cruelty and aggression.

Right now, however, Fabia had a potentially unpredictable and dangerous stranger in front of her, who was still assessing her attire. The princess was confident she could take that woman out in melee combat, since those arms looked like they barely lift anything heavier than a stack of books in their entire existence. She would have to be fast—a hard punch to the face should do it—then run and find the exit, then get back to one of the Gundalian chasers to attempt to contact Serena. 

She could do it, she just had to be fast. That's all. _Better be safe than sorry._

Mind made up, Fabia curled a fist and brought it up, throwing the _second_ fastest punch she ever had in her life straight at that beautiful face. ‘I'm sorry,’ the would-be assaulter cringed. ‘I hope I wouldn't mess up your face too badly.’

Then her fist was abruptly stopped mid-air, mid-throwing, mere centimeters from the stranger’s straight nose. The young royal could feel the air around her fist twisting and holding it in place, despite seeing no visible restraints on it.

“Wha—”

“What year is it? Outside, I mean.” The woman, heedless of the shaking fist a breath away from smacking into her face, stared unflinchingly once again into Fabia's surprised and horrified eyes. “Please answer me, my contractor.”

“ _How?!_ Let me go this instance you maniac!”

The princess started to struggle against the invisible restraints locking her fist in place, scowling up a storm at the _human?_ in front of her. 

‘No human could accomplish something like this,’ she chewed on her lips. ‘No technology could do _something like this!’_

Fabia gritted her teeth, knowing that the longer she stayed here the bigger the chance of this woman taking revenge on the attempted assault. Once more, she balled up her other fist and threw it—this time she aimed at the solar plexus—in hope to take the wind out of the maniac long enough for her to escape.

Infuriatingly, and also panic-worthily, the second punch was stopped mere moments before impact. Fabia scowled heavily, now certain that the woman was definitely _not-right_ and dangerous.

Also, she was fucked now. Both hands restrained, her body half-crouched—even if she threw a kick now, who to say the _formless air restraints_ wouldn't just lock it up too? Then she would truly lose all of her mobility, and her hopes of getting back to her sister.

_Fantastic, really._

The dangerous stranger now looked at her with a hint of exasperation, but her face still set in that unflinching look. Her mouth opened, that dulcet tone asked her again:

“Please, answer me. What’s the current year on the surface?”

Fabia pursed her lips, unwilling to answer now that her hands were restrained and her anger returned. But the damn woman still had that light of honesty in her eyes, and her face gave away true confusion regarding the whole time subject. It was either answering a seemingly innocuous query or having the woman torture her—despite the fact that the query was unrelated to any of her current problems and the woman looked far too kind to be the type that enjoyed torture—and Fabia reluctantly opened her mouth to answer.

After all, royalties knew better than anyone else how appearances could be deceiving. She wouldn't fight meaningless battles against an unknown foe, it wasn't worth it.

“675. What is it?”

“Oh.”

The unknown danger had a look of realization on her face now. She closed her eyes, breathing out a long sigh before reopening them to glance at Fabia’s attire one more time, as if to confirm a missing piece of a whole picture. The woman then reached up to lay her hands right over the fists in her personal space, touching and gently lowering them down.

“What are—”

“If you refrain from punching me, then I will explain everything to you. I promise.”

Fabia stared, suspicious, “How can I take you at your words?”

“I’m not the one who threw the first punch, no?”

‘Fair,’ she inwardly grumbled. She _had_ been the one to throw the punch, but that didn’t change the fact that this woman could and _did_ restrain her in a mysterious way. ‘I mean, formless air-chains? Impossible.’

But she still couldn’t explain away how her hands stopped midair like that, how she struggled to free them yet they never budged an inch; more damningly was how she _felt_ the sensation of air and wind wrapped around them, keeping the curled-up fists in place.

Fabia was, to put it bluntly, confused. _Badly_ confused.

But at this point, she had no other choice. _And what’s the harm in hearing out whatever kind of insane explanation the woman can dish out anyway?_

_It’s not like she’ll start spouting things like ‘magic’, right?_

* * *

Well. That was enlightening.

_Damn her and damn her tendencies of jinxing herself._

It wasn’t like Fabia to curse at herself like that, but she knew better than to even entertain crazy ideas. And now, one of those crazy ideas just came true in the form of a _self-proclaimed_ genie who just spent thirty minutes explaining _things_ to her.

Things like, _oh I don’t know,_ magic and wishes.

If she was still in Neathia, the princess would immediately check this _genie_ into a mental institute; at the moment, however, she was on an island smack-dabbed in the middle of nowhere with absolutely no explanation for whatever the woman did to her. _Okay, and maybe we are a bit desperate_ — _but who can blame us?_

Fabia agreed with her mind there. Who could blame her for buying _at least_ a few of the crazy woman’s lies?

Even if those lies were very elaborate and explained her situation perfectly.

Proofs. The princess needed _proofs._ If this _genie_ couldn’t adequately provide proofs then, well, _too bad_ because Fabia was going to deck her in the face for attempting to deceive a member of the royal family.

(She conveniently put her prior _failed_ attempt out of her mind. No need for second thoughts now.)

“I want proof,” she blurted out, tired and desperate more than ever, her hands raised and gestured around. “Show me your magic, then we’ll talk about this whole contract mess.”

“Is that a wish for me? You only have three wishes, you know.” _Was this person deliberately misunderstand her or something?_

“No, I want proofs of your _apparent_ magical nature so that I can trust you. You are telling me to bare my deepest desires to you without providing some pieces of evidence of your _miracles_. Do you take me for a fool?”

“…”

Irritatingly enough, that woman still had that unflappable look on her face. ‘ _Fine,’_ the commander’s eyelids twitched, _‘let’s pull out the bluffs.’_

“What? Can’t provide evidence for your outrageous claims? I shouldn’t have expected much from a run-of-the-mill swindler, really.”

Fabia made to stand up and turn around, finding that her hands were free for quite some time now _(when did that happen?)_ before heaving herself up and dusted off the clinging sand on her clothes.

“Seems like you are no more than a liar and a trickster. I’m leaving, you wasted my time enough.” The princess hoped the woman would take her bait since she herself didn’t know where the exit was; or at the very least the jabs should unsettle her enough. That unflinching expression was starting to get on her nerves.

The young royal took one step, then two, then steadily waddled her way across the treasure cavern, her face resolute and eyes straight forward. Outwardly, anyway.

Inwardly, however, Fabia was panicking up a storm over her possible future of aimlessly wandering around this probably closed-off place, with no food and water to sustain herself. She hoped her luck hold her through this time of need, at the least until she could find a running water source.

The princess made her way through the small gaps between mountains of treasures, avoiding some pommels sticking out here and a few intertwining necklaces there. The sound of her steel boot’s sole stepping on rings and priceless artifacts made her cringe, her overactive imagination thinking up the estimated values of these pieces of jewelry. Despite being born in the lap of luxury, Fabia still got uncomfortable every time someone brought up the subject of wealth ever since her youth; now, with the war draining resources from both sides for years and all royal coffers opened to maintain a limit on country-wide poverty, she got even more discomfit regarding money and wealth. Every moment in this cavern reminded Fabia of her country’s imminent economic collapse, and how every single treasures and jewelry here could save her people’s lives.

‘Maybe I can ask the crazy woman whether she can give me a little bit of these gold?’ Man, she must had gone mad to even think of asking that person.

No, she wouldn’t do it, Fabia had her pride as the High Princess of Neathia and as a soldier; besides, she did _bluff_ and _walk away._ Coming back just to ask for a little gold is… _insulting._

With her back turned toward the target of her ire, Fabia woefully missed the softening of the stranger’s face and the warm smile that appeared. As such, she was unprepared for her whole name being called out in that dulcet voice across the cavern, the echoes hitting her ears but barely phasing the princess in her shock.

“My honor contractor, Fabia Sheen, please stop and listen to me.”

Fabia did stop alright, but she stopped to get her heart beating again. This island and its sole occupant were really bad for her health.

“What?!” She huffed angrily, knowing that a few years of her life just got deducted. “Want to prove your trustworthiness?”

“Yes. I have assessed that you are someone righteous for me to entrust my powers to. Allow me to show you my magic, honorable contractor.” At this, the woman’s warm smile picked up.

“You better hurry up then. I’m tired and cranky since this morning.” Actually, she had been cranky in the last three days, but that was irrelevant to the current subject.

The woman looked at her with a knowing look in her twinkling eyes but held her tongue. She probably didn’t want another disagreement with the resident bullheaded princess. Fabia was glad for the unspoken tactfulness, even if she wouldn’t thank her for that.

“Then, let’s us depart this island, my contractor.” With that said, the genie stood up, dusting off some non-existent dust on her weird clothing before picking up some _golden_ thing from the stone floor. The thing looked like an old-fashioned teapot—or an oil lamp—with gold coloring, smooth and unblemished surface and quite possibly made from gold. Consider the state of this cavern, the lamp-thingy being made from gold actually made sense.

The offputtingly beautiful woman walked to Fabia’s location, expertly and gracefully dodging every single piece of gold and diamond in her path. It almost looked like she was walking on thin air—oh, wait. Her feet didn’t touch the cavern floor at all.

A pregnant pause went through her brain. Then the true implications of that hit her hard between her eyes.

S _he really is walking on air oh my god_ , her mind stuttered. Fabia was pretty sure she had a stupefied look on her face right then, _because it is just impossible._

She-who-just-walked-on-air stopped in front of Fabia, lips curled in a gentle smile down at her and hands outstretched to hand her the gold lamp. The young princess brought her shaking hands up to receive it, fingers lightly touching the _magical being’s_ smooth ones. The lamp felt warm in her palms, contrary to its cold metallic look, and hummed with some kind of energy. This close to the _magical_ artifact, Fabia could see some sort of purplish smoke coming out of the lamp and curling around the woman’s figure, twisting and fading through her body like some kind of ethereal cape. Or like a hydra coiling its heads around its owner.

Either way, it didn’t matter; if what the genie said was true _(of course it’s true she just proved to you she had magic!)_ then the lamp was her weakness. However dangerous this woman might be, as long as Fabia hold onto this lamp she would follow her wishes.

‘No, only three wishes,’ she mentally corrected herself. The genie did explain to her that part in great details—like _you only have three wish, you can wish for everything but of course, no reviving the dead, no world domination and no wishing for more wishes_ —and Fabia wouldn’t waste her wishes on those issues anyway, there were more pressing matters at hand. Like getting out of this place, getting her bearing back and the genie _who just picked her up bridal style._ The lamp in her hands vibrated with intensity during Fabia’s frantic grapple after being picked up abruptly like that. It glowed, before morphing itself into a golden band strapping on her wrist, light-weight and hot to the touch.

“Whoa—” The princess squeaked, surprised by her sudden weightlessness. She didn’t think those slender arms could pick up a kid, let alone a 172-centimeter tall buff princess in her light armor. _Magic,_ it must had been.

But that didn’t change the fact her face heated up luminously and her arms automatically winded around the genie’s pale neck, right over the shining platinum choker. The pair of delicate hands were firmly holding onto her forearm and underneath her knees, the stylized bands on her wrists crushed uncomfortably against the princess’ clothing. She looked up at the magical being, affronted and flustered and readied to demand for her feet to touch the ground when they both lifted up, starting to ascend for the cavern’s ceiling. Fabia clung tighter.

“We, we are not going to smash through the cave, right?”

“No, we are not. You just need to trust me to carry you out safely, that’s all.”

“That’s not reassuring to hear, _genie._ What if you drop me?”

“I won’t. You are, after all, my contractor.”

All conversation between the two of them stopped as the rock ceiling came into view. This close to the stone surface, Fabia could see the autofluorescence moss that covered it and lighting up the cavern in their weird green light. She shuddered, tighten her grip even further; suddenly this cave gave her the creeps, with greenish lights and golden shine of cold, unused treasures. She couldn’t wait to get out of this place.

An indigo glow started to cover the both of them, engulfed Fabia in its warmth. The young princess hesitantly loosened one of her hand to swipe through the glow, feeling the weird air-like texture the same as the chains the genie who was holding her had used to restrained her fists.

“At least it has some colors in it now,” she sniffed, affronted from remembering the fail attempt. The commander turned her glare onto the genie:

“Never restrain me with those formless chains again, you hear me?”

Another small smile formed on the beautiful woman’s lips.

“And let you punch me?” Fabia could see the laughter in those chocolate eyes. She blushed, embarrassed at her violent reaction. But, to be fair, she just survived a full band of raiders and was in fight-or-flight mode—no one could truly hold the princess accountable for her over-reaction.

She snarked back, “Well, aren’t you supposed to be a high and mighty magical being? What, can’t take a punch?”

“Just because I can doesn’t mean I should, hm?”

“YOU—”

The indigo glowed brighter, lighting up the upper parts of the cavern and bathing everything in a purple haze. Fabia squeezed her eyes shut. The genie grinned and both of them disappeared.

* * *

When Fabia reopened her eyes, she was among stars and clouds.

The wind rushed against her body, but the princess who was still cradled in the genie’s embrace felt nothing but warmth and wonder at the sky over her. She had only ever seen the starry sky through the glass windows of aircrafts, combat fighters and her specialized goggles whenever she was on a mission. But, this time…

This time, High Princess Fabia Sheen saw the sky without a layer of glass between them. Her free hand raised up to run through some clouds that passed near them, the moist air pleasant on her healed fingertips and she curled her fist before bringing it up to her face, furtively trying to capture a cloud. The lingering cool mist ran over her, refreshing the warrior princess and clearing her mind. She laughed out loud, delight and full of wonder.

“This is, this is—I, I can’t believe it!” Fabia smiled up at the genie, breathless and elated at the natural wonder she was experiencing, made possible by the woman holding her.

The pretty woman was smiling softly down at her, and the princess’ breath caught sharply.

Underneath the stars of the evening sky, the genie’s hair was not that same mix of green, gold, red anymore. Her hair was of red-and-orange sunset, curly and long past her shoulder and soft to the touch. The deep chocolate eyes, if possible, twinkled even more like there were stars inside them, forming infinite galaxies and constellations. The pink lips grinned wider revealing pearly white teeth, her nose crinkled a bit at Fabia’s apparent happiness. The high cheeks blushed lightly at her stare and the jewels of her previously-thought-to-be-unadorned circlet caught the light of the stars, shining in different colors of the rainbow.

“Does this satisfy your, um, magical proof requirement, my honorable contractor?”

Fabia shook her head wildly to get rid of the dumbfounded look on her face before rapidly nodding, afraid that the beauty would take her actions wrongly. “Yes, I believe you now,” she added, for good measure.

To tell the truth, Fabia had believed her the moment the genie started to walk on air, but only now did the whole ‘magic is real’ thing truly registered, with an act such as breathing so high in the atmosphere without protective gear. Her brain started rummaging, the trained-since-birth politician inside her clammed its jaw down on the war prospect and how everything would change should _(once)_ the genie become widely known.

However, right now she thought she could be forgiven for putting aside any rumination regarding modern time and ancient magic out of her mind.

After all, she just escaped death this afternoon, a _reallybeautifulmagical_ woman was holding her high up in the sky—so high up Fabia could see every star that regularly couldn’t be seen because of air pollution, and _she could go home to her sister now._

_No, she can end the war right now. She can wish for it. The wish is in-line with the genie’s warnings._

“Three wishes, right, genie? I can wish for anything as long as it’s not world-domination, reviving the dead and more wishes?”

The woman blinked as if startled by Fabia’s abrupt change of attitude, before giving a quiet _yes_ back. The princess pursed her lips, mentally thinking up ways to phrase her wish without it backfiring on her, or her country for that matter.

The genie was kind enough to advise her to think carefully, after all. She had told Fabia stories of wishes that gone awry, made by greedy and hasty people. The cavern treasures were the most glaring example of how a pirate had let his greed clouded his mind and wished for enough treasure to sink the entirety of Gundalian Navy down the ocean. The treasures he asked for drowned him instead; it was an instant death.

_Well, no use mulling over something we could comprehend,_ her mind whispered, resigned over the fact that the young royal knew nothing about magic. _Let’s ask her directly._

“Hey, can you stop a war?”

The beautiful eyes widen before glancing around the sky, the wind ruffled her hair at every turn. She looked like a scholar then, slowly contemplating the idea of stopping a war in her mind before giving her a definite answer. Honestly, the commander couldn’t blame her for thinking deeply about this matter since that wish was big in magnitude, both physically and mentally. Stopping a whole war, Fabia knew, involved a lot of things: first and foremost, bringing the fighting to a close, then negotiations and peace talks between countries would start which may or may not be hampered by some warmongering factors, after that it would be time for rebuilding the country, reinforce the people’s trust in the government, keeping the economy stable to push for outside investment…

Also, an explanation must be given to the public, since the war didn’t stop in the normal way a la one side winning—but by magic, something thought to be nonexistent in this world. Even if the general public accepted that magic was real, there was no guarantee about that greedy Emperor not waging another war just to get his hands on the lamp—and subsequently the genie. In fact, he did send scouts here, but there was no confirmation whether Barodius knew about this magical being. If he got his hands on the lamp…

_If he got his grubby hands on the genie, then…_

Fabia didn’t dare to entertain the possibility. It was too horrifying in her mind.

That meant she couldn’t let the genie be discovered, for everyone’s safety.

_Which means that we have to plan this carefully,_ her overworked brain cautioned.

She couldn’t wish for the war to abruptly end, but she could split her wishes into crucial movements that push Neathia into victory. That may sounded a bit dirty, but right now Fabia was out of options. This was the only way.

(Beside, she did plan to _play a bit_ dirty after getting back from the island. She just didn’t think that her solution would come in this form.)

“Hey, genie,” she asked the woman cradling her close, buying time for her brain to work up an efficient wish-route.

“Yes?” _Oh but dear God, the genie was so adorable!_

“If you can grant yourself one wish, what would you wish for?”

“What brought this on, my honorable contractor? Is it because I was slow in answering your query?” The bright-eyed woman was looking at her now, red eyebrows gently furrowed.

“No, I was just curious. Everyone—no matter who they are—have a wish deep in their heart, you know?” Fabia softly rebutted, sensing the woman’s genuine concern. And, “stop calling me your contractor. I have a name, call me by my name please.”

“But you _are_ my contractor—”

Fabia clicked her tongue, “I may be your contractor, but that doesn’t mean you should always refer to me like that. It’s too polite.”

To tell the truth, being referred to as ‘honorable contractor’ was making her really uncomfortable. Even though she was a princess and was called ‘princess’, ‘High Princess’, ‘commander’ on a regular basis—hearing this powerful being referred to her as ‘contractor’ really didn’t sit well with Fabia. She wanted to hear her name being called from those lips in that mesmerizing voice.

And it wasn’t like the genie didn’t know her name; she did call out for her during the princess’ bluff. How the beautiful woman knew her name in the first place, Fabia didn’t know—but she assumed some magic was at work there.

“Being polite to contractors is what a genie like me should be doing,” the red eyelashes lowered, temporarily hiding the deep chocolate eyes from Fabia’s view. “But if you are uncomfortable with it then…”

The too-pretty-for-her-own-good being trailed off before opened her eyes once again, looking down at the princess in her arms. She looked hesitant then, lips not smiling and eyes stared right into Fabia’s own.

“…Then?” She gently inquired.

“Then please permit me the use of your name.”

‘Such earnest eyes gazing at me now’, she bit her lips, flustered at the attention. Fabia gathered the rest of her tattered composure, somehow managed to reply in a calm voice:

“Yes. From now on please call me by my name, okay?”

A sudden idea hit and a small grin appeared on the royal’s face. She curled her hand on the genie’s neck tighter and raised her free hand up, palm flat and faced forward. A handshake.

“Let’s shake hands and reintroduce ourselves. I don’t think we got off the right foot an hour ago, hm?”

The magical entity let out a giggle, deep eyes shining with genuine mirth. Fabia laughed alongside her, delighted by the girlish sound and open look on her face.

“I am Fabia Sheen, High Princess of the Dominion of Neathia. Please just call me Fabia.” The High Princess waved her hand close to the attractive face, grinning widely all the while, “Nice to meet you.”

“You are a princess but—” The genie giggled once more, shaking her head and sending curling locks of red flying in the wind. She then tilted her face down Fabia’s, smiling softly.

“Very well.” The same formless indigo glow that enveloped them both back in the cavern now condensed into… _something_ that supported her legs, freeing one of the entity’s hand. That same hand now gripped hers in a firm handshake, the long fingers ran over hers with one gentle caress.

“I am the genie that shall make your deepest wishes come true. I am Alice.”

Fabia shuddered, feeling the power in that declaration. She squeezed _Alice_ ’s hand tightly, the entity’s name a deep echo down to her soul.

Alice slowly grinned, radiant and powerful and attractive to the princess’ sense, “Nice to meet you too, Fabia.”


	2. in which the Queen nearly replaced her blood with sugar and tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fabia came to a horrifying realization about Alice; also she was overstepping her privileges with the genie.
> 
> Serena had consumed too much sugar in the last four days, trying to support the country and finding her sister at the same time. She got a little bit of hope coming her way soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I cranked this out in???? 5 days????? But currently I'm stuck on chapter 3 lmao
> 
> next update to this may come later than one month OwO

_“Let’s go back to my palace.”_

_“Which way?”_

_“In my estimation, the shore is about… two thousand kilometers northwest from the island. Hm…”_

_“Then, we shall en route to shore.”_

_“Yeah, at least I need to see some familiar scenery before recognizing where I am. Although I’m surprised you don’t know the location of my palace; I thought our contract let you know everything about me.”_

_“Not everything, Fabia. Just your name, age, and some other miscellaneous details. It would be very creepy if I know more about you than you about me.”_

_A laugh. Then, “The relationship between a genie and their contractor is hardly one of normal power dynamic but… I like to keep things equal on both sides myself. Sometimes one may meet unpleasant contractors and it is better for the genie to not know more about them.”_

_“Information is power, I get it. It’s no different than in a war.”_

_A melodic hum._

_“Would you like to know me better, Alice?”_

_“I would love to.”_

_“But you have to tell me more about yourself, too!”_

_“Yes, I know, I know.” A grin. “But I am just a very boring genie. You still want to know more about me?”_

_“Boring or not, it’s for me to judge, no? Don’t always assume the worst about yourself.”_

_“True. Then, what would you like to know first?”_

.

“Hey, Alice.”

“Yes, Fabia?”

“You haven’t answered my question yet. You know, your wish if you can have one?”

“Oh.”

The genie fell silent, her face set in a pensive look with eyebrows furrowed lightly. Like an hour ago, she glanced around the sky, hair whipping violently with the breakneck speed the both of them were traveling at. To Fabia’s trained eyes, she seemed hesitant and unwilling to answer the question. The princess felt a spark of guilt, seeing the pursed lips and unfocused gaze.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was something personal to you—just, forget about it, please.”

“No,” the genie breathed out lowly. “No, I can answer that. It’s just that…”

“You are obviously uncomfortable with it,” she scowled back. “You agreed to introduce yourself to me to make me feel comfortable, it’s fair that I do the same to you.”

“But—”

“No ‘but’ here. My words are law.”

Fabia knew she probably had a stubborn expression on her face right now. But who can blame her? The pretty genie looked so discomfit then when the question came up—like a kicked puppy with red curly fur and big, doe eyes. She huffed, suddenly tense and irritated at her inner thoughts.

A small laugh barely reached her ears, its melody soothing and pleasant amidst the rushing wind. The princess glared up only to be greeted with a wide smile from the otherworldly entity, making her flush up to the tips of her ears. The genie just laughed louder at the reaction.

“WHAT?!” She yelled over the wind, mortified at being on the other end of another’s amusement. “IS THERE SOMETHING ON MY FACE?!”

Once again, the genie just gave her the same wide smile. Fabia somehow pouted and scowled at the same time.

“No,” that vexing woman cleared her throat. “your face is clear.”

“Then why the hell did you suddenly laugh at me?!”

“It’s just that, you are the first contractor ever to ask me what my wish is…” A slight pause before she continued, “and I’m happy about it.”

The soft explanation washed over the commander’s mind like a bucket of cold water, calming her down from her undignified bout but at the same time making her brain overthink about the other woman’s treatment at the hands of many contractors in the past. Curiosity piqued, Fabia imploringly glanced at the genie, hoping for some further clarifications.

“Many people jumped at the chance for wishes, Fabia. I don’t blame them for it since the rule only specifies three wishes and no more. It’s just normal to think of their own deepest desires, that’s all.”

“But isn’t that a little bit… cruel?” Actually, the word she intended to use was ‘selfish’. The princess understood the desire to get as many dreams fulfill as possible, she really did—but it was unthinkable to her that no one had ever asked about the genie’s own wishes. It was unimaginable.

And yet…

Honestly, what was she trying to pull here with this, anyway?

She was no different than those prior contractors of this warm genie. Sure, Fabia introduced herself to her, joked around with her, asked about some details here and there and inquired about her deepest wish. But when it came down to it, she was only doing that to buy herself time to think up the best ways of solving the war—even now, her brain kept on running through various scenarios and their possible results, her wishes everchanging to accommodate for each new scenario. Wishes that this kind, soft-spoken, humorous genie _(who had gone so long without someone sparing a little bit of care towards)_ could grant her.

She only had her own best interests at heart. The genie was only a mean to an end. But—

“I only wish for my freedom. That’s my wish.”

“What…?”

“My, ah, bracelets, choker and circlet are my restrains. They signify my contract to the magic lamp, binding me to be its avatar.”

“You were not born to be like this?”

“No,” Fabia frowned more at the answer, “I was just bounded to it. I was once a human so long ago, you know?”

_‘So long ago_ ,’ she inwardly reeled, now more horrified than anything she’d ever felt before _. ‘I’d known soldiers that went insane after periods of time in isolation confinement. And this beautiful woman just admitted to spending years in involuntary isolation like this.’_

Her body gave a shudder when her eyes locked onto the genie’s timeless own.

_‘…how did she not go mad yet?’_

Those eyes, she only noticed now, had such heaviness inside them. The princess thought the deep gaze was just a reflection of this woman’s vast powers, the glimpse of forming galaxies a promise to contractors—that no matter how outrageous their wishes were, it could be done with a simple flick of her wrist. But, that was before the extent of the loneliness the redhead genie went through was revealed. The molten chocolate eyes now _(so so so fathomless to her mortal mind)_ held no less than a hundred lifetime’s worth of loneliness, tethering on the edge of madness and despair. This notion appalled her to the point of squeezing her eyes shut to stop the tears from flowing, blocking the images of kind genies trapped in small lamps and unable to talk or connect with everyone for millenniums.

A small squeeze jerked Fabia out of her increasingly depressing thoughts, her face turning up towards the woman holding her. She slowly opened her eyes and looked straight into the pretty woman’s face.

“Are you okay? Don’t cry for my sake, please.” The red eyebrows lightly pinched together, big doe eyes honest and lips parted, sweet dulcet voice caressed her ears. Her tears overflowed.

The genie hugged her tighter, her chin on top of the crown of her head and slender hands shifted to better cradle the princess’ body. Slow murmurs of _shh, it’s okay, Fabia_ and _don’t worry please, I’m used to it_ only made her cry harder. They both slowed down, hovering stasis in the night sky thousands of meters over the dark sea.

The only sounds that they could hear were Fabia’s half-stifled sobs and ragged breathing, her face folding right onto Alice’s white-and-lavender long jacket—it probably was soaked through already. Alice let her, holding the commander closer to keep her warm against the cold wind. The golden bands _that denoted her status as the lamp’s prisoner_ pressed against her upper arm and below her knee in an uncomfortable _(agonizing-horrible-terrible-grievous)_ touch.

The young royal sniffed and loosened her hold on the redhead woman’s shoulder to rub at her eyes, attempting to regain her composure after the uncharacteristic emotional outburst. She needed to calm down, she needed to keep a cool head, she needed to think clearly for her…

For her wishes. _Wishes_ this isolated woman could grant her.

“I…” Rarely in her life did Fabia be conflict over anything, decisiveness and straightforward attitude were two thing she learnt since youth; however, this time was one of those exceptions. It was three wishes for her to freely use, to solve every single problem that afflicted her and her country right now, no string attached. No consequence for the princess beside having to phrase her words carefully.

It was just so _goddamn simple._ Every desire could be made real—from massive riches and treasures to power and status—at no price, the only requirement for contractors was the need to word their wishes with precision; that prospect was so alluring, so soul-wrenching tempting to just _wish and take everything that they could then leave the magical avatar to her loneliness._ And Fabia would be doing the same as those selfish people, taking everything she could before leaving the otherworldly entity and her prison behind, moving on with her life.

She was no different than them, but—

She wanted to fulfill this person’s only desire. She wanted to grant her wish.

Fabia could, if she used one of her wishes.

She bit her lips, mind warring between obligations to her country and sympathy for the gentle genie. Her hands balled up, relaxed then clenched again, her forehead twisted into a mighty frown at the conflicting interests. She would have to choose.

“Hey,” that soft voice shook her out of her trance, bringing the young princess back to the present.

“…yes?”

“I’m sorry, for making you cry. I shouldn’t have answered the question.” A small smile was directed at her again, “You should forget about it, okay?”

What.

Was this woman seriously just apologize for answering a question? And did she just _tell her to forget it_? To forget that this kind woman has _no one beside her_ and has lived _thousand of years in solitude?_

What the fuck?

Was she serious?

“Did you just straight-up tell me to _my face_ that _I_ should forget about it?!” Okay, maybe her mood was being unstable today. It must had been from the adrenaline. _It must had been._

Because Fabia Sheen had never been so offended in her entire life. Since their meeting hours ago this woman had single-handedly brought the High Princess on an emotional roller coaster steeper than any council meeting, ever. Period.

“Um,” the poor genie was panicking now, stuttering out her reply in the face of the princess’ indignant anger. “Um, I-ah, that is… ah, _yes?”_

“No!”

“Sorry!”

“Don’t say sorry either!”

“Understood!”

“What are you, a soldier?!”

“But you said ‘no’ to apologizing, so I had to say I understood what you meant!”

“YOU—”

She needed to calm down, and fast, before she lashed out at the oblivious beauty. Taking a deep breath before breathing out slowly, Fabia closed her eyes and opened them to stare straight into the magnificent face, its owner darting her eyes left and right to avoid the princess’ glare. Fed up with her own mood-swing, she raised both her hands up to that steadily blushing face—trusting the genie not to drop her down thousands of meters below—and swished them on those rosy cheeks. The swished look made Alice look like an adorable dumpling with red noodles _(what? the? hell?)_ and still so pretty for her own good.

“How about bringing me to my palace first, then we can smooth out the finer details regarding your and my situation better? How does that sound?”

Red eyebrows raised up to near her hairline, Alice herself had a look of pure disbelief in her eyes and her mouth worked to say something in reply to the whiplash-inducing mood swing. Fabia really felt bad for the genie, dealing with her right now was probably above anyone’s paygrade—even if one was to be a royal a.k.a Serena, or an all-powerful magical entity a.k.a Alice.

“…are you sure you are okay?”

The genuine concern on that heartbreaking face was touching for the high-strung commander to see, especially after she flipped out and yelled and generally made a nuisance of herself to the long-suffering genie. That saint-like patience should had been rewarded, really.

But rewards could also come later, after she returned to her palace and talked with her sister. Surely with her sister, Fabia could come to the right decisions over the wishes.

The red-hair woman was still waiting for her answer. Her face was released from the young royal’s hands, lips pursing into a slight pout and eyes giving the woman in her arms her undivided attention. Fabia mustered up the best poker face she could present in her current state and smiled back.

“I’m fine,” she muttered, knowing that Alice could hear her clearly. “Just too tired and having the worst moody roller coaster in my entire life.”

A small sigh before the genie conceded, one quiet ‘okay’ leaving her mouth and silently dispersed into thin air. The hands carrying her tightened on their precious cargo, bringing the princess closer to the genie’s warm body before they both set off once again to the royal palace—the heavy subject of Alice’s lack of freedom played a dominant role in Fabia’s mind on the way home, her own indecisiveness rearing its ugly head and giving her a massive headache. She had to decide soon.

_But first, return home then take a long rest_ , her mind managed a brief response, too overtaxed from everything. _Wishing can wait, Alice won’t go anywhere._

And just to be sure—

“You won’t go anywhere during my rest, right?”

“No, I won’t.” A cute grin was aimed at her, “I’ll watch over you, don’t worry.”

“Okay, that’s a promise.”

“Yes, it’s a promise.”

They fell silent the rest of the trip back to Neathia’s capitol, with only the rushing wind and twinkling stars the witnesses to their promise.

However, a problem quickly manifested after they reached the palace.

“We cannot go in,” the missing princess gritted out, irritated with herself for forgetting one crucial thing. “There probably was a spy in my rank. If we go in then things will be uncontrollable.”

Hovering high above the tallest tower of the palace, Fabia groaned and pushed her face into Alice’s shoulder. She wanted to see her only family member again, but at the same time there was a big chance of a mole infiltrating the palace staff; if the princess returned without some big commotion then further scrutinizing would be on them, and rumors would soon spread. Then Barodius would probably take notice of the fact that the royal princess escaped death and mysteriously returned from that sought-after island with one brand new _(and very noticeable)_ accessory and—

She needed to sleep. Everything she thinks up right now would be twisted and interpreted _way off_ its intended designation. But she couldn’t rest in the palace now—the thoughts maybe got blown out of proportions, _yes_ , but that didn’t make them less valid in the current situation. She had to account for even the most impossible possibility since Murphy’s Law was a thing, that there was always a chance of the worst outcome happening; Fabia refused to be blindsided just because she dismissed her overactive imagination.

Alice’s voice startled her out of her musings. The young royal instinctually curled her hand into the white-and-indigo long coat.

“Then, where would you like to go?”

“Not yet, Alice,” she acknowledged, willing her mind to remember that _one specific thing_ from her childhood. She’d be needing it for her temporary retreat plan. The princess just hoped her sister remember it too.

Fabia looked down from her high perch and easily located her own quarter—the lights turned on despite its owner’s absence—and traced her eyes to the left, pass the walkway with the reinforced glass ceiling connecting the palace’s two towers together. The towers housed her and Serena's bedrooms and private libraries, an indoor training court in her own tower, one conference room in her elder sibling's own. The big building beneath the walkway housed the throne room, the master dining room, the kitchen and the staff’s quarters; on the second floor was the king and queen’s bedroom, with their own private library and sky garden. Their parents’ room was empty since their deaths and Serena refused to move into it—even after her accession—preferring to stay in her own room just like her younger sibling. The princess felt her lips curled into a smile lightly at that, knowing her sister did that to maintain a sense of balance between them, just like two even weight on the scale that signified Neathia. Serena was always like that, loving and putting on a smile for everyone even in time of crisis, who never let anyone know how tired she was feeling and strived to be the best Queen she could despite the circumstances; especially after their parents’ death when Fabia just fell apart in grief, Serena had been the rock she clung on to stand up again and get her bearing back—one hand keeping the country’s political machine from collapsing, the remaining hand stabilizing its economy and her shoulder for the at-the-time eighteen years old princess to cry on. The woman she is today was all thank to her sister’s love and patience, Fabia knew she could never repay her older sister enough.

And now, she had to reassure Serena that her younger sister was still alive and kicking. The rambunctious princess would sooner bite her arms off than letting Serena cry over her. However, for that to happen she had to remember the secret code the Sheen sibling made in their childhood, which was a bit hazy in her currently sleepy mind. Fabia had to do it, nevertheless.

Her eyes landed on the older Sheen’s room, its lights peeking through the deep blue curtains over plain glass doors. The balcony connected to the room was full of flowers and vines arranged to Serena’s liking, a plush chair with a small table under the vine-covered arch: her sister’s favorite reading place, under the sky and with light flowery scents in the air. It was near time for Serena to come out and read whatever kind of book that caught her fancy lately; Fabia hoped it was the books in that one series about dragons and wizards; those fantasy books were her favorite.

She squirmed and adjusted her position in Alice’s arms, cranking her head out further to see if her sister had appeared yet. The red-hair genie responded in kind, hands gripped her form back more assuredly and descended slowly near the left tower, careful to stay out of the castle patrols’ sights. A slight wind picked up, bringing along with it the scent of iris, hyacinth and rose; Fabia breathed in slowly, comforted by the familiar scents of home and closed her eyes to rack her brain one more time.

Minutes passed in silence before the princess reopened her eyes, finally gathering up enough of the secret code for her intended message; she just needed some paper and a pen now. She raised her head to ask Alice for some writing utensils when the woman’s face stopped her dead in her track.

“This place is so beautiful,” the reticent magical being murmured, awe evident in her voice and eyes full of childish wonder. Her deep eyes roaming from the top of the highest tower down to Serena’s balcony—lingering especially long there like she was taking note of every bud of flowers—and the castle ground with the royal garden. Those chocolate eyes lit up further when their owner saw the red carnations lining the strategic-placed bushes, white chrysanthemums dotting around the center where an elaborate fountain stood. The whole garden was breathtaking, and it seemed the genie already fell in love with it; Fabia was glad since the garden was one of her parents’ pride—they always made sure to lead foreign dignitaries through a relaxing trip after the talks and debates in the meeting room.

She smiled at the apparent enthusiasm and asked back, “It’s nice, isn’t it?”

“Yes! Oh, it’s so wonderful,” Alice grinned widely at her, unbridled excitement painted so clearly on the otherworldly pretty face. “And it smells so good too! Your gardener must be so talented!”

Fabia giggled, “No gardener, actually. My sister is the one taking care of it.”

“Really? She has such a green thumb then!”

“Yeah! Unlike her, I don’t even know how to pluck a rose, let alone planting them in style!”

The beautiful genie let out a girlish laugh, her cheeks pink with wholehearted delight. Fabia made to add another comment on her inability for gardening and cooking when the curtains of Serena’s room were abruptly pulled back, flooding the balcony with artificial white light. Her words died in her throat, hands clinging onto the woman carrying her. Above the princess’ head, the redhead being fell silent alongside Fabia.

No sound reached their ears despite seeing a pair of hands tinkering with the glass doors’ lock. The princess inhaled sharply when the doors gave way, a woman in her late twenties walked out and closed the doors behind her. Fabia blinked rapidly, her eyes watery at the sight of her dear sister after months of not talking face-to-face. _Goodness,_ after surviving today the young princess wanted nothing more than to see her only family alive and whole, nobody could blame her for getting a bit emotional.

Serena walked out in her light blue bathrobe that Fabia was certain was her favorite, deep blue hair colored black by the night sky pulled up into a messy updo and her right-hand holding a— _is my eyes deceiving me?_ —glass full of wine. Her sister looked so tired and thinner than when she last saw her, emerald eyes identical to hers held a deep-seated exhaustion and face pulled into a frown. Fabia felt guilty for making her older sister worry like this, knowing more than anyone else that Serena was carrying the whole of Neathia’s economy on her overworked back. The young princess longed to step into the palace again and hug the tiredness away from her elder, but her circumstance as of now was Neathia’s only chance at ending this war. She couldn’t return yet.

(Thinking about her own situation brought forth the heavy subject of the genie’s imprisonment, a topic that caused her no small headache just two hours ago. She wouldn’t let herself get sucked back into that one again so soon, with her mood so despondent like now.)

Taking a deep breath and making her decision, Fabia blurted out before her nerves caught up with her, “Alice, would you mind doing for me three more small favors?”

The red-hair genie’s silent was her only answer. The commander bit her lips, acknowledging the fact that Alice had gone above and beyond what was required of her; she had brought Fabia out of that cavern, showing her the sky and taking her home without a lick of complaint. Asking for more was just taking advantage of this person’s kindness and forcing her to shirk her duty. But she just needed a little bit more, to reassure her sister and secure her own chances before making the wishes. _Just three more small favors._

“Please, I beg of you,” Fabia pleaded, throwing her pride to the wind. Her sister’s peace of mind was more important. “Just three small favor, please.”

Her mind raced, turning ideas left and right. She debated over one particular idea above all. After all, the princess was considering wishing for the genie’s freedom in exchange for these three favors. She would blow one of her wishes, of course, but her sister’s wellbeing and future planning stood above all else. The royal didn’t dare to consider the fact that this exchange would be no more than pure blackmail, even if she’d like to pretend otherwise. Fabia was guilty enough, she couldn’t afford to be more.

“I could—”

“Yes,” Alice whispered, near silent in her delivery. “Only three, and no more. I have allowed you too much, Fabia.”

The High Princess grasped, relief flooding her veins and slumped down in the genie’s arms. “Thank you. I—I have no word, please, I—” a deep intake of breath, flowery scents filling up her nostrils and reminding her of reality. “I am forever in your debt. Just, _thank you._ ”

“You don’t have to do that. I help you because I want to, that’s all.”

“But still, I—”

That clear dulcet voice interrupted her.

“Your sister is going back in. What do you want to do now?”

Fabia glanced down, confirming that _yes, Serena is going to sleep_ before lifting her gaze and stared straight into Alice’s eyes. The beautiful being stared back, unflinchingly. She was reminded of her earlier intention of offering this generous woman her freedom—with strings attached, using her own wish that this genie gave her—and felt shameful. But, she had one chance to set things into motion; she couldn’t waste it now.

Apologies could wait until everything was in place. She took in a deep breath.

“Okay, here’s what we are going to do—”

.

_“First, can you give me some papers and a pen?”_

_A slow blink. A stack of pristine white paper appeared on her stomach with a pen clipped on top._

_“I’ll write out a note for my sister, then can you tape it onto her table and make it discoverable only to her?”_

_“That’s the second favor, yes?”_

_“Yes, it is. After that, we’ll move on to our third favor.”_

.

Serena didn’t even need the alarm clock to wake up before dawn. She had learned to open her eyes at five A.M sharp—the same time as the palace staffs—since her accession, the early days of queenship filled to the brim with work and more work. Now it was more of a habit than anything else: wake up, stretch a bit, take a bath, prepare for a new day, eat breakfast, read reports, read more reports _on her missing sister_. Right, that was the routine for four days now.

Fabia was the single most competent princess in Neathia’s history, Serena knew this. Her younger sister was stubborn, tenacious, brave, intelligent and resourceful; if she was trapped somewhere, she would assuredly find her way out. But…

What if the Gundalians captured her? What if she failed to escape? What if her sister was outsmarted?

What if she was being tortured, right now? What if Emperor Barodius let that Kazarina freely have her way with her dear sister?

_What if, what if, what if_ —

So many ‘if’. So many possibilities. So many ways for Fabia to die.

Serena needed to trust Fabia more—that girl had been so self-sufficient ever since their parents’ untimely demise, always putting on a brave front for everyone. From castle’s staff to infantries, she never showed her weakness to anyone but her sister. Recently, not even Serena could see through Fabia’s tough façade anymore. Depressing, she knew, that her own blood did not trust her enough to let her guard down—but that was understandable for Neathia was in a war; it still hurted, regardless.

As for herself, the High Queen felt… tired. The last few months had been rough for her, the last four days more so; the princess went missing, an ambush was sprung, the primary camp on the desert front was burnt down—the military efforts were failing against Barodius, to put it bluntly. If it was not for General Elright, the capitol would have been outrun hours after the ambush.

It wasn’t in her Neathian blood to give up, though. If this country was to be defeated, they would go down fighting to the last one—especially after news of the High Princess’ M.I.A status. A wave of fury had washed over the nation when news broke out and military registrants increased tenfold. It should had been great news for any military leader worth their salt—but to Serena, this was worse than simply her sister missing; this meant more of her Neathian brothers and sisters were going to die, more than necessary. In fact, this entire war was unnecessary altogether, spurred on by one man’s greed and need for control. One hundred years from now, later generation would consider this to be the single most pointless conflict in history, and Serena would let historians record this down as such.

One life lost meant one too many. This war needed to be stopped. But it would continue to go on as long as that horrible Emperor was still breathing.

She sighed out one long breath, annoyed with herself for getting so worked up so early in the morning. Raising her voice a little bit, she called for a maid to bring her some tea to calm down. The Queen stood up from her bed and wrapped a robe over her favorite nightgown before intertwining her hands together, raising them above her head for her morning breathing exercise. Counting back from ten, breathing in at even numbers and breathing out at odd numbers: that was her normal routine for waking up her mind in preparation for a day ahead. She reached one, breathed out one long breath before starting again at ten.

A knock sounded at the big double door, Serena called out a _come in_ and two maids come in with her morning tea. One woman in her late thirties carried the tray to the small table in the middle of the room, right near her bookcase; the other one who looked as she was just barely a day over twenty-five came near her bed and started folding the big blanket, perfectly making her bed like no one had slept in it last night. The elder Sheen watched them working, knowing the elder maid since she was young and had played a hand in taking care of the younger one when the kid’s caretakers passed away. She considered them her closest friends beside her own sister, and held no small amount of gratitude for their support in this trying time.

The bed was finished, the tea was poured out. Serena stopped her morning exercise and came closer to the table, intending on taking a sip to quiet down her disjoint thoughts. The jasmine tea smelled the same as always, providing her a steady ground to stand on. The Queen turned around, seeing her friends exiting the room to give her space, called out, “Thank you, Jazime, Minea.”

The older one, Jazime, bowed to her with a small smile while Minea, always the spunky one, grinned widely at her. They both walked out and closed the door after bowing to the drinking woman one more time. Serena blew on her hot tea, feeling more grounded after the turbulent thoughts minutes ago.

‘No sense in starting a day tense as a bow,’ she reflected while staring at her distorted image in the teacup. ‘Inevitably, something will happen again.’ She just hoped that ‘something’ would be good today.

Wanting to see the sunrise in all of its majesty, the High Queen opened the door to her little alcove and walked out, tea in hand. The sun had started to pull up, the fiery ball casting red-and-orange light over her country, glistening when it reached the outer wall of the city. The image was beautiful, and one she had got used to since years ago when she first started waking up early. The red sunlight shone through her flowers, dyeing them with a mix of hot colors—it clashed badly, she had to admit, but as long as they smelled good then Serena had no problem with her aesthetics being offended.

She slowly put down her cup on the small outdoor table and pulled the chair out to sit on it, the rising sun warmed her face just like how the tea warmed up her body. The elder Sheen relaxed her shoulders and leaned back against the plush chair, her mind in a half-meditating state. Her hands splayed over the table, thin fingers drumming up an old beat her father used to play on the piano. Serena hummed low in her throat, basking in the sunlight and quietness of early morning. She started moving her fingers, tapping them in rhythm across the table—then her pointer finger touched something.

Serena raised her left brow, thinking it to be a leaf and flicked it down the marble floor. Her fingers resumed their tapping, and touched that thing again.

The Queen huffed and sat up straighter on her chair, her hand reached out to find whatever it was that refused to be flicked out. Her fingertips touched something bigger than a normal leaf, with texture reminding her of paper. Curiosity now piqued, Serena planted her whole hand near the paper-like thing and started to pried it off the table. The thing was stuck to the wooden surface with some kind of superglue, that was certain.

The elder Sheen stood up and leaned her torso over the flat surface—after moving the teacup to the free chair on her right, of course—and wedged her fingernails under the thing to slowly pry it off. The paper-like slip blended perfectly into the color of the wood, and Serena was sure that even under the most meticulous examination this slip wouldn’t be discovered. Well, unless someone touched it first. Like her now. _Goodness gracious._

Puffing out her cheek, Serena had a mind to call in a servant and had them use a knife to take this off but, something held her back. She didn’t know what thing that was, other than the feeling of ‘should not let others discover this’ just suddenly came over her, halting her voice from calling out for someone. It was stupid, she knew—what if this was a trap from an enemy? Then she would sign her own fate—but that feeling kept on nagging at her to _not tell anyone, only you can know don’t tell anyone, don’t let them see, burn the letter after_.

The Queen breathed out, the feeling kept on nagging her and she gritted her teeth, pulling on the slip with a hard yank. It came off the table and— _what in the ever-loving gods? Did the slip just change color?_ —words started to appear on it. Meaningless, gibberish half words.

Serena stared, sweating and dumbfounded at the now-white paper with meaningless words separated into two columns, one on each edge of the slip. Some words were even cut straight through right in the middle, interrupting a ‘t’ here and an ‘e’ there. She couldn’t make head or tail out of it, but one thing she did recognize: her younger sister’s handwriting.

Fabia’s handwriting was particularly weird for a noble, to be honest. Unlike Serena’s loopy and elaborated style, hers could be described as a blockish cursive style. Less loop on the curves, no unnecessary flair for capital letter, short and tapered ending for words… all of it made up such a distinctive quirk for paperwork—and if Serena was to be truthful, easier for her to read. She got tired from looking too long at too elaborated scripts every time a councilor brought up a new report, no one could blame her for liking her sister’s straight-to-the-point writing style.

One more special thing that her sister did that allowed the Queen to recognize her right away was the way the High Princess sign her own name, with heavy loopy swirls placed on their family name. Serena thought that it was a way for the princess to show a modicum of royal training; just because she rarely acted like someone her station should didn’t equal to her not knowing how to flaunt her own power. Her sister was contradictory like that, and secretly cunning to boost; Fabia Sheen was the kind of person to coldly think things through to their conclusions before deciding on a course of action, but at the same time she had a pretty mean temper that could be easily triggered if one knew how. A most competent princess Neathia’d ever seen.

That little sister of hers wouldn’t risk doing something so risky like this, Serena knew; that meant someone had faked Fabia’s distinctive handwriting to fool her. A trap, no more, no less. _She knew it, she told herself three times,_ yet something told her this slip was genuinely made-by-Fabia.

‘No sense in dilly-dallying,’ the Queen mentally asserted, hands lightly shaking. ‘Let’s see what the paper says.’

Just to be safe, she came back inside, closed the balcony door, pulled the curtains shut and sat down on the table near her bookshelves. Her hands automatically started to fold the paper into three parts, with the middle part the size of the left and right ones combined. Smoothing down the paper edges, she turned it face-up to her and read. Then her eyebrow twitched.

The words were made up of separated parts on the left and right edges, ‘e’ and ‘t’ completed from their previous slit-in-the-middle state, reforming the message that her _sister? enemies?_ left for the Queen. But the problem was that the words were true gibberish, no word in her vocabulary match them. _What in the world did ‘ba[blank]ew’ mean?!_

Serena could already feel a headache forming, so early in the morning. She started to curse the gods for bringing her this message—just because the elder Sheen hoped something would happen today didn’t mean _something like this_ should happen!—and set to solve it before her work hours. How in the world was she supposed to decode this message anyway? Serena wasn’t trained in decoding like the royal technicians did; bringing this letter to them was out of the question, that feeling before told her _not to do it don’t bring it to anyone else_ and she was a fool to listen and follow it.

There was no guarantee that this slip was from Fabia _(but it had her handwriting and specific signature)_ and Serena was going to find the jerk who played with her feelings like this. She would, after she solved this, of course.

The Queen groaned, exasperated beyond measure, and took a sip of her cooling tea to calm down. Whacking her brain for some solution to this riddle seemed fruitless since Serena never was good at answering tricks and puzzles; she had to try, nonetheless. Whoever sent this to her must had been believing her to be able to read this, she would try to not disappoint them. If it was her sister? Well, she would have a talk with dear little Fabia later for pulling this kind of trick.

And if it was an enemy? Then she’d make them solve the hardest riddle book currently available in Neathia, or shove a 9x9x9 Rubik cube at them. That’d teach them not to cross the Queen with petty riddles again.

.

In a wooden cabin on a cliff overlooking the ocean, far away from the palace, one of its occupants sneezed.

“Bless you.”

A deadpan stare accompanied a sniff.

“…thank you.”

.

Five hours later, Serena had gone through two pots of tea, one dish full of biscuits, three packs of M&M, and one lollipop. The stack of completed paperwork rested near her right hand, her left one gripping the fountain pen tightly, scribbling and scratching out random letters and crosswords: her feeble attempt at solving the riddle. Crumbled papers strew around her work table, some blotted through with deep blue ink, some half ripped, and some filled with scrawling lines—she must had gone through a full notebook-worth of paper and still hadn’t made a dent in figuring out the answer. The Queen was frustrated and agitated, more than ever—she should gave up, she was wasting time, yet she couldn’t. Her mind kept on telling her that Fabia was the author of this _god forsaken_ slip; solving it would bring her a step closer to bringing that girl home.

A knock on the door sounded out, Serena glanced up briefly before absentmindedly called out a _come in_ to her eldest friend. Jazime came into the room, her hands once again supporting the tea tray. The woman in the servant outfit took a quick assessing glance over the slumping queen—the jewel crown weirdly not on her head and collar rumpled—before gently set the tray down and tested her luck:

“Was there something wrong, your Majesty?” 

“Not quite,” the mumbling reply was low in her throat and Serena didn’t care; Jazime had seen her at lowest times, why should she kept up the formality with her friend?

The hand gripping the pen tightened a minuscule amount before lifting off the paper she was currently writing on, the ink blotted out a big spot on the pristine white page. Scratched out numerical codes lined up haphazardly with random letter chains, squiggling symbols interconnecting with each other—one more slip ruined in vain, taking her no closer to the answer. Serena sat up straighter and plugged the pen back into the inkpot, free hands reached up for the teacup handed to her by Jazime. The soothing aroma of jasmine reached her nose and calmed the Queen down almost instantaneously, allowing her a temporal retreat from the brain puzzle.

She took another sip, the slightly sweet tang on her tongue providing some clarity after hunching over the riddle for the better part of the morning. Licking her lips, the elder Sheen glanced at Jazime before coming to a decision.

“Jazime, my friend,” her voice rang out, a little thick from the copious amount of tea and sweets. Her longtime friend turned around after putting the violet cleaning rag down, hands clasped in front of the white apron that was a part of her uniform: prim and proper like how a servant should be. Serena paused in the middle of her wording, a fond exasperation simmered in her heart—after all these years, Jazime always was so formal with the Sheen siblings despite her and Fabia repeatedly telling her to drop it. She suspected Jazime kept it up just to poke fun at the both of them, actually.

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Do I strike you as the type to solve puzzles for fun?”

“No, Your Majesty.”

“Please stop being so formal with me.”

“I can’t, Your Majesty. As long as you and Princess Fabia are still the reigning monarchs of Neathia, I shall not dare to call you anything other than your rightful titles.”

Serena clicked her tongue, knowing that her longtime friend would answer something along the line of that. It had become a game for the both of them—to see what kind of creative respond would Serena fire back in a vain attempt to break the maid’s logic. Today, however, the Queen was in no mood for their regular banter and as such stayed silent against Jazime’s response.

The maid sensed her reluctance to continue their game and breathed out a short sigh. Since this morning Serena Sheen had looked like someone with their head in the cloud, her gaze kept on spacing out between signing paperwork and skimming through reports—it worried her deeply as her Queen wasn’t the type to allow her mind to wander like that. She privately wondered about the problem that currently plagued the diligent monarch’s concentration; it must had been something involved puzzles, with Serena’s previous query still fresh in mind.

Jazime decided to ask the Queen outright; if it was something she could help with then she would, wholeheartedly. Serena was Neathia’s beloved Queen, and all would fall over themselves just to offer their aids.

“Pardon my forwardness, Your Majesty, if I may,” she paused, waiting for the signal to go on. A slight nod from the elder Sheen was sent her way. “Was something troubling you? A puzzle, if I can guess?”

“Yes,” Serena admitted, frown apparent on her face. Her left hand reached out and crumbled up the blotted paper, right hand bringing up the teacup for one more sip. The paper was thrown towards the trash bin on her right, bouncing up on the metal edge then falling to its resting place. She picked up the puzzle slip from today’s morning and handed it to Jazime—who took it with reverence—despite every impulse she had telling her ‘no’.

“That thing is my current problem, Jazime,” the Queen groaned out, acutely feeling a budding headache behind her eyes. “It was on my balcony’s table when I opened the door this morning.”

Her loyal friend assessed the slip with intense focus, “Should I warn the royal guards of potential intruders?”

“No need for that, I don’t think the sender is an enemy.” Serena rubbed at her eyes before finished up her nth cup of tea, “Although decoding it may be too much for me.”

“Decoding?”

“Yes, there are some rubbish words on the edges. Do you see them, Jazime?”

Jazime’s look was confused, her eyes rapidly darting up and down between the Queen’s face and the slip. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty. This paper appears to be blank.”

“Blank? Impossible, there are definitely words on the edges.” Serena was sure her face reflected her incredulous mood right now—her friend was observant and meticulous, she wouldn’t miss something so… _apparent_ in front of her like that. “Here, I’ll point it out to you.”

She pushed back on her chair and stood up, a little dizzy from hours of sitting around doing nothing but eating sweets and signing documents. Five strides took her away from the table and near Jazime’s position, the maid taller than Serena a few centimeters; the slip was lightly gripped in her friend’s hands when she came over and the Queen pointed her manicured finger at one of the cut-through words on the right edge.

“See? Gibberish, I tell you.”

Jazime’s blue eyes followed her finger to rest at the example before widening. She raised her head and shook it while mouthing an empathic _No, I can’t see it_ back at her. Serena blanched.

“How in the world…?”

“I don’t know, Your Majesty. I cannot see whatever it is that you see.”

“Are you sure?” Her pointer finger poked harder on the riddle slip, the Queen’s agitation shone through her calm façade. To her own eyes, the cut-off _‘ank]ew’_ was clear as day, Fabia’s business-like scripts an unforgettable imprint in her mind—she couldn’t fathom how one could not see it.

Her oldest friend kept on shaking her head with a baffled expression, her fingers letting the paper go before taking one step back and bowed low to the High Queen. Jazime’s tenor voice rang lowly in the private study, intended for only the royal’s ears.

“My sincerest apologies to you, Your Majesty,” she uttered, her training as a royal maid kicking in to placate the flabbergasted Sheen. “Apparently I am unsuitable for aiding you with this specific issue. Do you wish for me to put in a request for a decoder?”

“No!” Serena’s exclamation surprised even herself; she should called for a professional to solve this, _she knew,_ yet that insistent voice kept on telling her to _not letting anyone else know no one can know don’t let anyone else see_ and she just… clung onto the hope that this mysterious slip was from her sister. The remaining logical part of her brain gave in to the irresistible command, her right hand curled tightly on the damn riddle.

“You don’t need to call anyone, I will find the answer myself,” the Queen assured her longtime friend, the other woman’s worrywart nature was one of Serena’s favorite things in Jazime. She knew that without some assurance, Jazime would probably go to bed tonight planning various ways of wrangling out an answer for the puzzle without solving it. She definitely would do it.

“But Your Majesty—”

“Now, now,” said Queen smiled, seeing the concerned gaze directed at her. “I’ll handle it, Jazime. And if you could be so kind as to bring me some cookies? It seems that the plate is empty and I dearly want some sweet.”

Her friend kept on staring at her, perturbed with the paper and the Queen’s weird behavior. Something told her to _leave the Queen be, don’t worry about it_ and she bowed again, promising to bring up a plateful of chocochip cookies with water to wash down the sugar. Her legs started to move towards the dark wooden door, left hand haft-way from grabbing onto the handle when a far-off memory from the Sheen siblings’ childhood resurfaced. She remembered badly written numbers and nonsensical letter chains on papers spilling around the sisters’ room, some folded into stars and cranes, some were just simply rolled up or cut off into parts that could be rearranged into the real message—that was the special code that the sisters’ invented to prank the castle staffs, bringing no small amount of grief to everyone in it. From the maids, the butlers to even the late King and Queen _(god bless their souls)_ —no one was exempted from being the victims to their daily prank messages.

The curious thing was that nobody had been able to solve the message on their own. Sure, the decoders had solved some of those but that was after the pranks had been sprung—some codes had been discovered before their intended tricks, _however_ , the decoders had been stumped regarding them because there had been no result to backtrack from. No comprehensible answer sheet had been agreed on, too; it had seemed as if the palace would be stuck with two little princesses running around and throwing indecipherable codes left and right. Luckily for everyone involved, they seemed to grow out of it after a few months.

Those codes were the early testaments of the royal sisters’ ingenious minds and vast imaginations. She wondered if—

“Your Majesty, if I may ask you one thing?” She certainly didn’t expect the question to come out of her mouth like this. Jazime had no knowledge of _wanting_ to ask this query in the first place—but the voice demanded her to _suggest it to the Queen_ , and she was powerless against it. Her Queen looked at her and nodded, emerald eyes quickly returning to scan over the _invisible to my eyes_ riddle.

“Perhaps you still remember the secret code you and your sister had invented back then? The code that only consists of random letters and numbers?” That code was definitely not made up from randomized letters, but at this point no one even knew how to decode it so ‘randomized letters’ it was.

“…yes, but I fail to see its relevance to my current problem.” 

“Be that as it may, your experiences with your own complex codes can provide some new insights to this problem, Your Majesty.” Sensing the doubt from the High Queen, Jazime added, “Even if it doesn’t help, you can at least rest knowing you did everything you can.”

“But I don’t even—” The Queen paused abruptly in the middle of her sentence, her gaze focused and far away at the same time. Walking back behind her work desk, Serena put the puzzle slip in front of her seat and sat down, hands already reaching for a new sheet of paper. She looked up and threw a grateful glance at her loyal friend:

“Thanks, Jazime.”

“My pleasure, Your Majesty.”

The maid bowed out of the room, intended on bringing up the plate of cookies and one pitcher of water, leaving the musing Queen behind. Serena blew out a calming breath, mind working overtime to recollect the memories of their secret language—even if this proved futile, she could still say she did her best. The fountain pen was picked up from its resting place, her left hand gripping it tightly before she started writing out the decode sequence. She hoped her memory serve her right this time.

.

Three steps away from the door, Jazime paused. Her mind suddenly became blank, the last few minutes in the Queen’s study wiped clean, leaving behind only the order for the cookies and water. She gasped, breathless for on second.

_Just walk on, do not look back, you will forget everything concerning the code._

The maid complied with the disembodied voice and walked to the kitchen.

.

The secret code was the true answer to the mysterious riddle. It fit perfectly from every single letter to number. Serena couldn’t be happier.

The note was now confirmed to be from her sister, and she was alive—and somehow managed to sneak up to her balcony without any guard noticing. The Queen breathed out a relieved sigh, a heavy weight seemed to disappear on her shoulders. She still hadn’t dismissed the notion of someone faking it, _of course,_ but her hopes were higher than ever before.

Fabia sent her a note with only one simple sentence: ‘Meet me by the bayview.” It seemed meaningless to an outsider, or even to the royal advisors and councilors—but to Serena Sheen, this provided everything she needed to find her sister again. She would have to arrange for some discrete transportations soon.

Well, at the least the High Queen could rest easy now, comforted with the knowledge of her sister’s very high chance of survival and possible future plans. They all would pull through this trying time. Whatever gods that decided to grant her this miracle today, she’d repay them all tenfold.

Knowing her own increasingly disjointed thoughts meant it was time to sleep, Serena decided to call it a _very fruitful_ night. The lamp was turned off, the chair pulled back into its original position, all scattered papers gathered and stacked up, the riddle safely stored in one of the table’s secret drawer, pen plugged into inkpot and curtains closed—only then she walked out of the study, intended on getting a good sleep in preparation for some planning tomorrow.

Precisely ten seconds after Serena left the room, the riddle lit up in an indigo glow before disintegrating. Its job was finish. The rest depended on the Queen’s initiative.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on the exciting adventure of the Princess and the Genie: How many roundabout ways one can think up to kill a King?

**Author's Note:**

> So like I have 7k more of chapter 2 written in this AU and unlike OWaF (i'm so sorry i have 7749 wips in my gg docs and i can't seem to actually make a dent in it) i'm planning on finishing this, although i have a lot of ideas for this fic cause plot points just jump out at me everytime i open this in words so...
> 
> tldr: this fic is going to be long-ish??? i've written 17k of words and alice and fabia haven't gotten around to their wishes yet lmao
> 
> also: if i got something wrong or some points in this fic confuse you pls feel free to comment or pm y'all, i'm needing a lot of input in this one. 
> 
> pss: beta wanted!!!!!!!!


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